The Guardian in Gray
by Oblivion Keeper
Summary: It is he who wanders who has a will unbroken, but he who ventures to fight has the unbreakable will. But when the two collide, it may be the world that shatters. Marth-centric, AU(SSB). Pairings present in later chapters; character cameos throughout.


_**The Guardian in Gray:  
by: Oblivion Keeper**_

_**Summary: **_

It is he who wanders who has a will unbroken, but he who ventures to fight has the unbreakable will. But when the two collide, it may be the world that shatters. Marth-centric, AU(SSB), Marthx?/?xMarth. Pairings present in later chapters; character cameos throughout.

_**Rating:T  
Language: English  
Genre: Adventure/Comedy/Romance  
Words: ~2,500  
Updated: 04/01/2014  
Published: 04/01/2014  
Characters: Marth**_

**_Disclaimer:  
_**I do not own anything owned by Nintendo, nor do I profit from his story in any monetary way. I write simply to entertain myself and others. In addition, I would like to mention that there is a pairing involved with this story, but it can also be read without it until later. So as of now, THERE ARE NO PAIRINGS IN THIS CHAPTER, so if you would like to read until pairings appear and decide you do not like or do not agree, feel free to cease reading! Without further ado, I present to you chapter one.

* * *

"You shouldn't be here. Get lost, boy."

And here he thought he'd only hear that from his father, but now he was hearing it form the kingdom's citizens? His eyes casually removed themselves from the produce he had been considering to the raggedly clad inhabitants of Altea's castle town, where he noticed the look of distaste plastered on the speaker's face was echoed throughout the area where several men and women looked on, a corner of their lips visibly upturned. It would appear that he was not welcome here anymore, which was a pity as it was his favorite way to enrage his father. In hopes of evading further escalation, the teenaged boy raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, a hopeful smile still playing on his face all the while managing to look bashful, as though he had made a mistake. "Come now, I'm not that much of a stranger to everyone here, am I? I visit the town many times a day- much more than my father to be sure!"

The sneers only increased and the futility of the young man's words became apparent. "That's not saying much. Your "father" NEVER shows his face here. Too many royal pedicures to attend to, prince? Or is he having a conference with the royal duckie in the spa?" The villager was now practically screaming in rage, his voice drawing the eyes of aloof shoppers from afar.

The now identified young royal tried his hardest not to step away from the man as it would do no good to show that he was nervous. The man was practically a raging animal at this point, and the boy knew if he backed down he would disgrace his family- and being descended of the royal crown he could not dishonor the Lowell name. To be honest, he agreed with the unfortunate man. His father was more interested in keeping the royal family well groomed than he was with the health and safety of those in his kingdom, something that repulsed the prince. However, that didn't stop him from falling victim to the practices his father imposed. One look between the villagers with their muddied bodies, smelling as if they had never bathed in their entire lives, eyes desolate, and the young royal with porcelain skin, polished immaculately to the point where his skin and cobalt hair appeared to glimmer in the sunlight clearly illuminated the class disjoint. Only the cloak the royal wore could draw any similarity between them, it ragged with excessive use and as homemade as the goods on sale at the nearby market.

The young boy could understand their frustrations, the king proved to be little more than a tyrant on a good day, to the kingdom and his own family, ruling with an iron fist both in politics and at the dinner table. He had more than enough bruises from individualized "lessons" his father liked to administer to prove his iron fist theory to boot. "Well prince? What are you going to do about it?!"

The voice that interrupted his thoughts was full of vitriol and it was when the prince looked up that he realized just how close every eavesdropping villager had actually come to him. He didn't move for a moment, suddenly able to see their narrowed eyes and knit brows. Their anger was palpable, nearly making the prince shiver. It was time for either some smooth talking or quick running- battling was out of the question as he had neither his weapon, nor the will to harm any citizen in his charge. "Everyone, please," he began, "I am on your side here! I want nothing more than to help you reclaim all the aid and goods my father has been extorting from you. On my name as the royal, Prince Marth Lowell of Aritia, I will not allow the king's transgressions to continue unchecked!"

Their faces did not seem to be improving. The main man who he had spoken with so explicitly before pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head, coming closer to Prince Marth. "Sorry Prince, we've heard that from more than just you." Marth's back hit into a man behind him, suddenly realizing that as they had argued he had been surrounded. "I think it's time we took the situation into our own hands."

Marth had to tell himself several times to not put up a fuss, even though his hands itched to fight back as the villagers, the very people he considered himself a shepherd of, bound his hands together with a rope that tethered Marth's own horse to a stable. He watched helplessly as it rode away without him, but honestly could not bring himself to be angry at them, even when one tripped him, causing him to fall abruptly to the cobblestone road chin first. It was likely that was going to hurt for a while, and he wondered if his teeth were permanently engrained into his brain, but he had little time to worry about it as he felt a tug on the rope. "Get up, Prince. It's time to go see your father."

Marth's eyes widened. "You can't do that!" He exclaimed. If his father saw villagers with his son hostage... "Honestly, for both our sakes you must not go there! Do what you want with me, I know the royal family has not treated you correctly, but going to my father is a mistake!"

"Begging isn't going to help." A man who had joined the group stated as he pulled Marth to his feet by an elbow. "Plus, maybe if we bring you back we can get a ransom. That'll help us immeasurably, and that's what you want, isn't it?"

Marth sighed as the group of angry men, women, and several children who were too young to understand what was really happening paraded him towards the gates to the castle. He looked upwards in an attempt to avoid soiling his clothes, feeling a small trail of blood making its way down his chin and trying to stain his shirt. It was a shame that this was the daily activity that the villagers had decided to partake in. It was particularly warm; the sun high in the sky and bathing the town in golden light and vibrantly expressing the multicolored roofs of the humble abodes surrounding them, and it could hardly be past three in the afternoon. Usually Marth would be spending his time in town playing a tactical game of chess with the elderly man who sat across from the cafe with the usual cup of tea, or anti-haggling, a game of his own design which consisted of offering a shopkeeper an exorbitant amount of cash for a good or grocery and timing how long it took for them to conceded to his initial offer. Children would be playing games in the alleys between, often inviting the young prince to either play with them or watch them and keep score.

He was so integrated into their community it hurt him deeply that they would even desire to ransom him at all. Suddenly, his father's method of control seemed really-

"Mister Marth?" A small voice from his right side cut his thoughts short.

Looking down, he saw a small girl, hair a curly blonde with several teeth missing and a dingy brown bear clutched in one arm. She stared at him with piercingly bright eyes, and Marth couldn't help but begin to feel guilty for his earlier thoughts. "Are we going to a party at your house?" She asked.

Glancing around, he realized no adult had noticed she was talking to him and quietly muttered back, "Of course; remember when I told everyone you were playing with a while ago that we'd all go back to my place to play someday?" Her enthusiastic nods begged him to continue. "Well I decided today would be a good day. But I need you to do me a favor before we can have the party, okay?"

"Anything!" She chirped, notifying some of the adults.

Now he knew he had to talk fast. "I bought something earlier and left it by the cafe where I usually play board games with Mr. Gravin. Could you go grab it for me before you come to the party?"

She ran away faster than he had thought was humanly possible, making it difficult for any adult in the group to chastise her for talking to the prince as they walked along. He felt a smile pulling at his cheeks, trying to hide it so that the main leaders of the mob leading him would not notice. He hadn't bought anything, nor played chess with Gravin that day. His detainment was almost immediate upon entering the town. But at least if that little girl was busy searching for an object that did not exist, then one person would be spared from his father's wrath and how it chose to manifest itself today.

The gate to the castle was heavily guarded, something that irked the villagers and made Marth's trips to town something of a secrecy problem, but although the people were unaware to the prince's lockdown, the guards were not. Each of the two well armored men shot the dirtiest looks to the group of commoners just for approaching, armor making a cold metallic sound as they shifted to focus all attention on the group. "Halt." One stated, sounding almost apathetic. "What brings you to the -!"

"Just open the gate!" A woman towards the back called over the heads of the entire group, startling Marth who was nearly pressing noses with the guard and somehow remained unidentified.

"Insolent..." The guard muttered. "And why should we?!"

Marth felt the hood of his cloak be clutched roughly and then be yanked back, taking a few strands of hair along for the ride. He struggled to not express his pain, but still managed to grunt his displeasure against his will. "Not so hard!" He mumbled to the man holding his arms tightly.

The man's grip only tightened but that was the least of the Marth's problems. The guards had aimed their lances at the group, and thus nearly up his nose by extension. The villagers noticed the apparent threat and backed up, though only slightly due to meeting resistance from the back of the group who was unaware of the unforeseen threat.

Marth was prepared for a lot of things. An argument. A verbal bashing. To get dirty looks from the guards and potentially dragged inside to his father for what would assuredly be the worst experience of his life. But he was not prepared to feel cold, hard iron pressed against his throat. Even the guards looked taken aback and the aim of their lances on the villagers faltered towards the floor, though they continued pointing their weapons in their general direction. "Put the weapons down," the man holding both Marth and the sword stated, "or we kill the prince."

Silence enveloped the crowd. Marth felt a sweat break out on his brow and a cold chill make its way down his back, threatening to wrack his body. What? Would this man actually kill him to get to his father? It would not only be a mistake, but it would foolish at best. The boy who would do anything for the people behind him was now little more than bait.

Surprisingly, the guards lowered their weapons, sour looks directed at both Marth and the man, before pulling the gates open with a spine chilling shriek. A singular guard ran ahead up the smooth cobblestone path, likely to inform the king, while the other stated through clenched teeth, "go on ahead. But don't get used to it."

The swarm was immediate. Suddenly the townspeople who were once so tender, quiet and unsure were surging forth through the open gates as though the kingdom's coffers had opened and poured into the castle courtyard. Sword removed from his neck by now, Marth stumbled over himself, too astonished by the mob mentality to make his feet keep up with his captor's and growled lowly, "Were you really going to kill me...?"

He wasn't even graced with an answer. Really siding with his dad's ruling strategy right now.

As the balcony where royals typically gave their announcements loomed closer, Marth was astonished to see that it was empty. Looking farther down, he suddenly knew why. "F-Father…" He stuttered, noticing that the king was at eye level, staring at the approaching group with an entourage of soldiers.

The male villager who had become the mob leader took a step forward, still holding Marth firmly just above his elbow- something that Marth tried to cover up by stepping up slightly with him. The less his father noticed the villager's aggression the less hefty the punishment for all of them would be. "King Cornelius," the villager all but spat, "we demand some changes be made here and-!"

Marth stood stock still, the air around his face bending and whipping his hair into his eyes and face as a grunt sounded, the villager's sentence cut off abruptly. A sudden pressure of downward gravity brought him to his knees, originating by the hold on his elbow steadily drew him to the ground as he caught himself on his hands and knees. He could barely take his eyes off his father, piercing eyes looking deceptively calm and staring into Marth. As if at once, the people that had been gathered behind them scattered, probably fleeing the castle grounds. The king had not made a move in response to the man's accusations, nor to the movements of the other villagers, and the man did not speak again after several moments. A deep, steady breath came from Marth as his eyes inched the direction of his captor, not daring to breathe.

An arrow.

There was an arrow through the man's chest, and it was all Marth could assume that it was through his heart without flipping him over. The prince didn't dare, sitting back onto his heels. He knew he should be in tears by now, as the man who had not only dragged him into this, but who had been one of the most welcoming, good natured, and upstanding citizen of the kingdom was now motionless in the rustling grass around them. With a brief glance down, Marth put a hand over the man's that had fallen into his lap, the hand that once gripped and manhandled him so roughly. Pain consumed his chest, unable to burst the myriad of emotions from within him in the presence of his father, to whom he turned his hazy gaze on with empty eyes.

The guards were no longer at his side, and Marth found that he could no longer tell where the other villagers were, only that they were somewhere behind him and in great danger that he could not protect them from. Deep blue, angry eyes did not waver from the young prince's form, collapsed upon the ground, and Marth could feel the hidden malice shooting at him; the callous disappointment that the king exuded from having such a pathetic son.

He must have known. Must have known that his son cared for the villagers more than the crown- more than his status in the royal court. Skipped private lessons, extended horse rides...His father was nothing but paranoid, so how could Marth have thought he would not have been able to put two and two together?

Grass crunched softly behind him, the shift of each blade detectable by its brushing against his legs.

His father finally moved. A sow, solemn nod.

Darkness.

* * *

A brief flash of white inlaid into black swam past his vision, mind clouded. Something cold touched his cheek. Snippets of memories...? Surely this was his life flashing before his eyes. A long, drawn out tone, deep and somber cut through the haze, only to be replaced...

a long muzzle...

black coal nose...

penetrating cerulean eyes, slanted and surrounded by...

fur?

* * *

A/N: Welcome to the new story! The eternal hiatus is over! Hopefully you enjoyed chapter one, though it is a tad depressing, and we'll move into chapter two soon. It'll take a bit, as I will be casually writing this in my free time, but in the mean time I hope you can enjoy what's been posted. What will happen?

I will be including an author's note at the end of each chapter, if only so you guys can be aware of potential delays and maybe converse with me in the review section. Everyone's support over the last 6 years (or more, I think I was here just reading before) has been greatly appreciated and I hope to continue hearing your opinions.

Don't be a stranger!

~OBK


End file.
